


vaster than empires and more slow

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Experimental Style, Other, eldritch guardians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Dumb eldritch abomination husbands, I cannot get enough of you.People: What’s with the style here?Me: You said Joyce and I got confused.[Clarification as of this posting: They're eldritch avatars of light and shadow and they're IN LOVE and now they're ON EARTH]
Relationships: Pitch Black/Sanderson Mansnoozie
Kudos: 2
Collections: Blacksand Short Fics





	vaster than empires and more slow

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 8/6/2013.

they do not caress with hands, though they might have caressed with something close enough to hands a billion years ago, or two

out of curiosity

but they were not young then either

young? they do not remember being young, they enjoy getting older, they enjoy seeing time as great syrupy drops flowing up and down and sideways that might stick on their notskin for the other which is also the self to lick off with a nottongue, they are glad to be free from the clickclickclick traintrack of time that all the youngthings with their sweat and bark and tectonic movement and hydrogen fusion are caught in like—well they don’t really know what like. there is always a way out from where they notstand and notlook except the youngthings are never patient enough to find it and sometimes they wonder whythem?

and the goldlightsweet one knows and the blackshadowbitter one knows and what they know is the answer to whythem? and the answer is lovelovelove

perhaps longlong ago they cried and bled and sweat and salivated and ejaculated like the youngyoungyoung ones and somehow all their water flowed into a cosmic glass and something even they will never understand tasted it and knew them and said these ones must nevernever die they know something about love they know something about hate and to put it in a way that will not make sense for a very long time even by my measurements:

they are the real jet-fuel.

but perhaps they made themselves the way they are because they could not actually fuck each other to death nor could they make sweet and gentle love to each other to death, oh candy mouths and oh knifish claws and oh stardust hair and oh whipcord arms and oh those ripe and ready hills of flesh and oh the valleys deserve a longlong tongue and oh none of this was ever lethal though perhaps they thought it might be at the time. and since this was the only way they could see themselves dying in the tracks of time (clickclickclick) they leapt from the tracks most spectacularly and dieddidn’tdie oh what is a body and perhaps in those first moments after that is where the confusion between I and you began and perhaps in the second moments I and you were discarded forevermore

but of course this is not how it happened because that sounds all too human does it not?

perhaps they were never anything like any of the youngthings but then, how would light and shadow have learned to make shadow and light gasp like inspiration and come like creation?

only youngthings care how they came to be and they are more concerned with caring that they are and they are perfect opposites oh perfect perfect have you ever seen a more perfect darkness oh perfect perfect have you ever seen a more perfect shine please do not touch the other that perfection is for this one to obliterate thank you very much and perhaps this time it will be cold fire or hot ice or broken plates and sunrises but what matters is the return the return the return

they spread out into the luxurious and fragileopen minds of youngthing sleepers my what a finefine bed so soft and smooth and warm and the feardark feels the joylight grinning already, always greedy that one and the terroreater grins back even while sinking into that patchwork of desires and says _softsmoothwarm like beautyglimmer yesyes?_ and the other laughs (oh slumbering poets here is a gift please do not spend it all in one place you would probably be thought insane) because they love the way each seems to the other on these molassesdark nights inside a billion egglike skulls and yesyesyes each other

and if the youngthings could comprehend they would no longer be troubled by the lack of I and you between them for without I and you is the only way they can be

and they are the death by lightning strike and they are the bloom of roses the size of pinky nails and they are water so cold it makes you drunk and they are the ever-shifting dunes that hide everything today and nothing tomorrow and they are squeaking the springs of brains like blakes and beethovens and little girls who suddenly realize grass is translucent in the setting sun but can’t bother with paper

and in an age or a moment or both they do not care, they have world enough and time, they shuddershudder oh yesyes sometimes it is goodgaspinggood to have an ending like the youngthings have

and a cavewoman thinks of fire and a cypress tree is outlined on a canvas meant to be covered in stars and a gun is aimed toward a mouth and xocolatl is mixed for the first time and Cain is not sorry and a Swiss man takes an unforgettable bicycle ride and the girl watching the grass begins to bother with paper and learns how to create a universe and fill it with pain and she laughs and they lovelovelove all of this and each other

oh it is a lovely world so good for play and as they curl through each other they know they will stay a longlong time as the tracks (clickclickclick) go and it will be eternity and just long enough for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> gretchensinister reblogged this from marypsue and added:  
> *chinhands* Thank you! Of course, credit where credit is due, I listened to Beethoven’s 9th symphony while writing this and the book I was reading in the morning was Living Next Door to the God of Love, which is a really good sci-fi novel with a lot of post-human stuff, including a couple major characters (or maybe just one…but many by the end) who exist in 11 dimensions. It accretes in the mind, and then flows out…
> 
> marypsue reblogged this from gretchensinister and added:  
> DUMB ELDRITCH ABOMINATION HUSBANDS Also, I could quite happily drown in your prose (poetry?). You have such a gorgeous way with descriptions, and I’ve seen very few authors who handle complete alien-ness with as much panache and style. #'alien-ness' is not a word I know shut up


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